


Like An Abandoned Kitten

by jeleania



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Mention of eating disorder, Mention of gun violence, References to Depression, Whumptober 2020, no beta we die like men, pre-slash of the promptis variety, reference of child neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeleania/pseuds/jeleania
Summary: Three weeks of radio silence.Prompto hated being alone.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936261
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	Like An Abandoned Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt No 8.  
>  ~~“Don’t Say Goodbye”~~ | Abandoned | Isolation

* * *

Prompto woke slowly.

His eyes cracked open and peered into the gray light of his bedroom. The air was chilly and the blanket too thin. He felt heavy and achy, eyes burning and muscles sluggish. Slowly, his gaze tracked from the pale light of his window across the bare wall with its chipping paint to the clock sitting on his tilted bedside table. 

0804 read the green numbers of the digital clock. There was a crack at one corner of the screen.

He had slept in again.

The blond teen sighed and rolled his head. His pillow was flat and smelled little. He had probably drooled on it again. Shadows were dark across his ceiling, dark as his mood and as lonely as the spider crouched in one high corner. 

It didn’t matter that he had slept in. School was out for the summer. He didn’t have work for two days. 

There was no one waiting for him. 

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly a year. They kept saying they’d be back soon, just another month, just another email with empty promises. They hadn’t bothered calling him since two trips ago. Too many times his own attempts to call had gone to voicemail and Prompto had just stopped trying. It was probably easier anyways, to just type a few bland words by rote. He never bothered to reply to those emails.

He wondered if his so-called parents would notice if he just up and died. Did they ever question why he didn’t answer them? Did they wonder at all about him? Did they even care?

The house was owned by them so there was no rent or mortgage he had to worry about. But the bills - electricity and water and gas - and food and general maintenance, those were still a concern. At the beginning of a trip, the Argentum adults usually remembered to send money back. By the third month, the money would trickle to a stop. Then it was just whatever he had painstakingly saved away and what he could scourge up with after-school jobs. 

Too many times he had to decide which was more important - food or replacement shoes, fixing the shower or paying the electricity bill.

He had to savor the good points because the bad were always creeping up on him.

He was so tired of it all.

Prompto forced himself to sit up. His back creaked like an old man’s. Or like Noct’s after they had fallen asleep on the apartment floor during a movie marathon. 

Something in the blond’s chest fluttered at the thought of his best friend. 

He reached for his phone. It was on the floor - the charging cord too short to sit it on the bed and still reach the outlet. He kept meaning to either buy a longer cord or move his bed. But either one seemed like too much effort when he actually tried to muster the energy to do it. Half hope half dread, he swiped the screen, checked his notifications. 

Nothing from Noctis. Or Gladio. Or even Iggy.

Just like the past three weeks of radio silence.

He let the phone drop onto the sheets.

Prompto sagged sideways until he lay on the mattress again. He pulled his knees towards his chest, curled his arms up to tuck his face into the bend of his elbows. His fingers flexed in his hair, nails scraped his scalp. One ragged edge scrapped the skin. Mild pain flittered up his nerves as he pulled his hair. It didn’t matter, the slight discomfort, the oil of his unwashed hair, the musk of forgetting to shower. 

He was alone. 

He hated being alone.

* * *

Prompto stared into his fridge. 

A mostly empty mayonnaise jar stared back.

He didn’t even have any bread to go with it. 

The blond sighed, leaned back, let the fridge door swing closed. 

Leaning back against the kitchen sink, blue-purple eyes drifted around his small kitchen. It was clean, he worked hard to keep it so. The counters near gleamed, no sticky residue of dust and grease to be found. The few dishes he used were stacked neatly in their cupboard. He had long since boxed up the rest of them just to not need to clean them when they weren’t getting use. A handful of pots and pans hung along one patch of wall, ready to be used. Stove and oven were battered but worked well. 

Problem was there was no food.

Prompto rubbed his face with one hand. His head ached dully. Maybe low blood sugar, maybe his trouble sleeping either too much or too little day by day. 

He needed to go buy food. 

But that meant finding real clothes rather than the chocobo sleep pants and dark tank top he was wearing. Meant trudging outside into the rain that had been lingering for the past two weeks from summer storms. Meant actually interacting with people even if it was just jostling around them in the aisles and giving him his change at the register.

He was so tired.

His stomach grumbled.

Outside, thunder rumbled across the sky.

He couldn’t even muster the energy to glower at the window and the slice of sky it revealed. Dark clouds were overhead. Given his current luck, it would start pouring rain halfway to the store.

He didn’t want to do it. He could just go back to bed. He didn’t really need to eat.

Green caught his dull gaze. Sitting in his little kitchen window were little pots. Each held a different herb growing he hoped happily. Ignis had given those to him - basil and rosemary, thyme and parsley, chives and garlic, dill and oregano. The older teen had gently pressed the first of the seedlings into his hands one day after yet another cooking session they had shared. Had smiled at Prompto’s stammered attempts to refuse the gift, saying that he had plenty of his own and wanted to give it to Prompto. After all, while Noctis and Gladiolus both enjoyed the results, Prompto was the only one to enjoy the actual cooking alongside Ignis. 

Ignis would want him to eat. 

If his fellow glasses wearing friend were here, he would tut softly and march out to a grocery store and whip up a four course meal. Even though he was just the civilian friend, Prompto was fussed over just as much as Noctis by Iggy. 

He was ninety-nine percent sure that Noctis hadn’t told Ignis about his little food problem. 

His eating disorder.

Prompto hated the words but he had to admit they were true. After all the work Noctis had put into helping him, the research and the coaxing to eat just a few bites and the patient weathering of the storm the few times Prompto had blown up at him, he could think those words to himself. Between years of trying to lose weight and stretches where there just wasn’t enough money for food, Prompto had gotten used to not eating. To the point that he sometimes maybe refused to eat. Because it made him feel too full, feel fat and heavy, feel like he was going to become that chubby boy of yesteryear who was teased and ignored and alone.

Noctis would want him to eat. Had worked alongside him to get his weight to a healthier level. Had struggled himself when during his research Noctis realized he also had problems with food. The two had made a deal - they would do their best to eat so the other wouldn’t worry, would do it for each other if they couldn’t do it for themselves quite yet. 

He didn’t want to let Noct down or disappoint Iggy.

With another sigh, he grabbed his still silent phone and walked toward his bedroom.

* * *

The automatic sliding doors swished open. 

With a sigh of relief, Prompto stepped into the store. As he feared, it had started raining for the umpteenth time as he had walked to the grocery store. Despite jogging the rest of the way, his clothes had gotten wet.

Well, he needed to do laundry anyways. Maybe this would help him find the energy to toss a load in the wash when he got home.

The blond pushed back the hood of his sweater. His hair was damp enough that hopefully it wasn’t too obvious he hadn’t showered. It did make his hair stick up even more than usual like a ruffled chocobo. There were days that Prompto wished his hair was sleeker like Gladio’s or more controllable like Iggy’s. He could cut it short, at least then it wouldn’t stick up everywhere. The hair gel was just a mask to make the mess look intentional. 

But Noctis liked his hair. 

More than once, Prompto had pretended to fall asleep with his head on his best friend’s lap. Just so he could feel Noctis run his fingers through his hair. 

Besides, it was too much effort to cut it all off. And have to keep cutting often so it wouldn’t grow out messy again. 

He paused in the middle of an aisle, fingers clenching around the handles of the carry basket. 

He missed Noctis so much.

It was like the whole world was darker without his friend around. Even a simple emoji in a text message would be a candle in the night. A sign he was not forgotten, was not drifting abandoned in the void.

He looked at his phone again.

No new notifications.

He shook his head, looked down in the basket he hadn’t even noticed grabbing. Or the three boxes of pasta and four cans of tomato paste he had added to it. Backtracking to that section, the blond nodded - at least he had grabbed the ones for sale. 

The rest of the walk through the store, he made his mind focus. On the food on his mental list. On calculating the prices. On debating if he really needed that one box of popsicles. In the end, he did add them to the basket. Just as a little treat. 

His streak of not thinking of his absent friends and their lack of contact with him lasted until he got in the queue. There was a television in a corner above the last register. Currently it was showing a news program. It must have been a slow news day because they were reviewing the events of nearly three weeks ago, no doubt hungry for an update on the Lucian royal family.

The recorded video playing was from some paparazzi who had been to the last of the meetings with the diplomats from Tenebrae. It had essentially been a small gala, everyone in suits or dresses, eating little nibbles of food and sipping water or wine. The view panned over the nobility until it found the King talking with some lady in a silvery gown.

A lady who laughed just before she pulled out a gun from her voluminous skirts and shot King Regis three times in the chest.

Gala attendees had scattered like startled cats. At least three other guests had pulled guns out from hiding places and were aiming into the crowd. Crownsguard had surged from the walls to try to subdue them. A man that looked a lot like Gladio had been sprinting toward the fallen King. The lady had pointed the gun at the monarch’s head, no doubt about to finish the job.

Noctis had gotten there first.

Prompto watched the screen as his best friend warped in front of his father. A shield of light blocked the bullets until the clip emptied. Then a not-quite warp and the lady was on the ground, missing half her gun arm. The bloody sword in his hands was then put to use against the next gunman as Noctis warped again, leaving probably-Gladio’s-dad to defend the King. 

The video cut off after that. 

So given the clusterfuck that was the assassins pretending to be diplomats’s visit, he didn’t blame the guys for the radio silence. Understood it even. Word had it that the King was still unconscious. Which meant Noctis was Regent, no doubt up to his eyeballs in royal duties even greater than his usual princely ones. And where Noctis was, Ignis and Gladiolus were as well. Iggy had his duties as Noct’s Advisor and Hand while Gladio was his bodyguard and Shield. There were no doubt meetings and committees and a metric ton of paperwork for them to deal with. All part and parcel of ruling a country even for - hopefully - a few weeks.

He lifted his heavy basket onto the conveyor belt. Checked his phone again. Looked at the call log and the last call from his friend. 

Noctis had called him in so late it was early hours the night of that video. He had sounded exhausted and stressed. But he had reassured Prompto that he wasn’t seriously hurt, that both Iggy and Gladio were fine. Then he freaking apologized for being busy for longer than they had expected, that he would probably be too busy to call or text much. Prompto had babbled that it was okay, that he hoped the king would heal fast, that he understood and not to worry about him.

When the call had ended, he had stared at his phone. 

Wondered why it felt like watching his not-parents walk out the door yet again.

And so his isolation had begun.

Prompto traded his phone for the slim wad of cash in his pocket. Tried to give a smile to the cashier. Did manage a sincere thank you. Then he grabbed his bags of groceries and trudged out the store.

He made it to the end of the block before the clouds opened up.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back into the downpour. Heaved a sigh. Opened his eyes and made himself keep walking.

Back to an empty house.

* * *

The house was too quiet as he shut the front door. 

He took a moment to look around. The furniture in the living room he had covered with sheets because he never used the room. The photos he had hung in the entryway were all ones he had taken. The kitchen table where he ate and did his homework when he wasn’t at Noct’s apartment. Down the hall past his own room and the bathroom and the little laundry nook was the master bedroom, all sealed up except when he dusted once in a while.

It was like his parents were phantoms that would drift in maybe once a year.

It was too big and too small, too much space for one teenager and too little love for one heart.

It wasn’t home, just a place to eat and sleep.

He was so tired of living here.

Prompto shuffled into the kitchen, not bothering with even removing his shoes. The flooring was all wood. He would just mop it up later. 

From his blond hair to his too big sweater to his tattered jeans and beat up sneakers, he was soaked. Like an abandoned kitten left in a box in an alley.

He certainly felt like one of those kittens.

Abandoned and alone. 

The wax lined paper bags full of food were shoved onto the countertop. 

Prompto stepped back and stared at the bounty.

He didn’t want to put it away. Didn’t want to eat any of it. Didn’t want to do anything anymore.

Maybe he could just shove the bags into the fridge? Organize it all later? It would be a waste if the meat and cheese and milk he just bought spoiled from leaving them on the counter. 

He was still staring, still dithering, still too drained to move when the front door slammed open.

Prompto jerked like he’d been shot, twisted to look at the door.

Noctis stood in the entryway.

Prompto blinked hard - had he fallen asleep? Or was he hallucinating? Because that image of Noctis dripping rainwater and staring at him didn’t make sense.

Then arms wrapped around him. A hand tucked his face into a warm neck. Fingers ran through his wet hair. Someone was talking in his ear. The scent of ozone and seasalt that his brain associated with Noctis filled his nose.

This felt too real to be his imagination.

Like a radio tuning into the right frequency, the sounds around him turned from meaningless static into actual words.

“Was that really necessary, Noct?” Ignis said somewhere behind him “It was practically breaking and entering.”

“The door was unlocked,” argued Noctis, breath brushing Prompto’s right ear. “Besides you didn’t feel him. Lonely and hopeless and - and like he just wanted to lay down and never get up again.”

The rustle of the paper bags halted. Then a long fingered hand was on his head. Ignis’s voice was much closer as he said, “Well, we’ll just have to pull him to his feet then.”

“And you’re being ridiculous just standing there.” Gladiolus’s voice rumbled. His large callused hand was suddenly cupping the left side of Prompto’s neck. “He’s freezing and soaking wet. Get him to the bathroom, he needs a warm shower and dry clothes.”

A weighty pause. 

Then the warm solid form wrapped around him started to ease back. To pull away. To leave him again.

Prompto’s hands snapped up and caught the back of Noctis’s jacket. He pressed closer with a whimper.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” Noctis soothed, cuddling close again. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Fuck, Prom, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t let that guilt just linger there. He licked his lips and opened his mouth. His voice was raspy from not speaking for the past he didn’t know how many days. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. It’s really not. But we can argue about it later.” Noctis stepped back but kept his arms around Prompto. “C’mon, walk with me, okay? Let’s get you warmed up.”

Prompto allowed himself to be shuffled along, Noct keeping a constant murmur of sound in his ear. The words blurred together like he was underwater but it didn’t matter. Because Noctis was here, was speaking, was guiding him. Iggy was in the kitchen, Gladio in the front room. 

It was okay because he wasn’t alone anymore.

* * *

Prompto woke up in his bed.

There was a warm body pressed close to him. His nose was nearly touching a collarbone peeking over a loose shirt collar. He smelled ozone and sea salt. 

He wasn’t alone.

His eyes burned and tears slipped free into his flimsy pillow. 

A hand rubbed his upper back. “Shh, it’s okay, Prom. You’re okay.”

He sniffled and whispered, “Sorry.”

The hand jerked a little. Then Noctis wiggled down the bed to look him in the eye. He gave a wobbly smile even as his blue eyes looked worried. “Hey, you’re awake. Wait, what are you sorry for?”

Prompto ducked his head. “Crying like a baby. Being all clingy. Just because I didn’t see you for a while.”

“Or hear from me. Or get any texts. Or emails. Or any contact at all.” Noctis shot back. Then in a quieter bitter tone, he added, “That’s even worse than your parents.”

His head snapped up so he could look Noct in the eye again. “You’re not like them.”

“Aren’t I?” scoffed the ravenet, this time avoiding eye contact. “My life goes to shit and I just stop talking to you. I kept putting it off, telling myself I’ll send a text later, I need to finish this first. But all the work, it was never finished. So I never reached out. Even though I wanted to hear your voice so much.”

Something fluttered in his stomach. 

Feeling oddly shy, Prompto looked past his friend’s ear and mentally leapt on a different topic. “So did you like sneak out or something?”

“Hardly sneaking when I have Specs and Gladdy with me.” He could just about hear Noct roll his eyes. By the Six, he had missed that snark. Missed this closeness and warmth. Missed his best friend in every way. “Plus Cor knows where we are. Gladio texted him that we’re staying over night. And in the morning, you’re coming with us.”

Prompto’s gaze snapped back to Noct’s face. “What? Coming with you? Where?”

“To the Citadel.” Noctis was sneaking peeks at his face then looking away. “If you want. I can have someone drive you to work. There’s an extra room in my suite. Plenty of room for your stuff. You can properly move in instead of the week long sleepovers.”

His brain was stuck on a particular bit of that ramble. “Wait. A room in your suite? In your Royal suite in the Citadel? I thought those rooms were for your Retinue?”

“They are,” answered Noctis.

He could swear he felt his heart stop. 

Hope and doubt warred in Prompto. He was misunderstanding. This couldn’t be real. He was just Prompto, a no-name refugee from Niflheim, a plebian civilian with no noble standing. He didn’t deserve to be -

A sharp pinch on his arm startled him from his thoughts. 

His attention jerked back to Noctis. Who was meeting his eyes, looking serious and nervous. “I can practically hear you putting yourself down. You’re my best friend, Prompto. No one better to have in my Retinue. But only if you want to. No pressure. You don’t have to -”

“I do.” jumped out of Prompto’s mouth. “I do want to. Shit, Noctis, I’ve wanted to since we first met. I just never thought - I mean I’m not strong like Gladio or smart like Iggy - I don’t have anything to give you.”

Noctis stared. Then a smile bloomed on his face and Prompto felt like his heart bloomed with it. Gently, Noctis knocked his forehead against the blond’s. “You’re my friend, Prompto. That’s all you need to be.”

Prompto couldn’t help but smile back.

Then dread and anxiety swept over him, smile flipping upside down. “Noct, Noct, I don’t know the words. The words for the Vows. I don’t know them.”

Noctis, the jerk, just chuckled and climbed off the bed. Grabbed his hand and tugged him upright. Pulled him toward the bedroom door and the life that waited beyond it. “Well you better go ask Specs.”

Wearing a giddy smile, Prompto followed Noctis out the door to do just that.

* * *


End file.
